Bloody Maze
by xRedxMoonx
Summary: The beginning of the Glade, those first days, wasn't beautiful. It was dark, covered in blood and filled with horror and panic as the teens tried to survive the terrifying dangers waiting around every corner. However, even in the deepest of darkness, a ray of light managed to shine upon and enlighten their heavy hearts; one that came in the form of a sarcastic, wild girl. [1/4]
1. Prologue

**A/N:** This is the prequel to _Bloody Amnesia_ , which you can find on my profile page. This is a short prologue that I hope you like; chapters will be longer from now on so no worries there!

 **IMPORTANT** : So we all know the gladers had their memories erased, and their names were not the same ones. Then, this is a part of Newt's past that I've made up and really hope you like it. Tell me what you think about it, please!

Disclaimer: I obviously do not own Maze Runner nor do I own its characters. I only own my OC and the plot.

* * *

PROLOGUE:

Don't forget about me

* * *

"Come on, we're going to be late!" A frustrated Simon shouted, calling out for his parents from downstairs.

He was standing by the front door, a slight frown touching his features, and one of his feet tapping the floor with impatience. It was quite the sight, considering he was only eleven and was dressed in his best clothes; which consisted of a suit that was undoubtedly way too long for his short frame. Nevertheless, the boy smoothed his black trousers, taking special care not to step on their ends, and stuck his hands inside the pockets of his jacket, effortlessly sneaking his wrists in as well.

"Simon, we wouldn't be late even if we tried!" His father's voice came from upstairs, but the man was quickly scolded by his wife.

"Don't be so harsh on him, darling, he's just eager to see his Arleen." Now, that made Simon blush uncontrollably.

"Mum!"

"Who'd say she lives just next door?"

Light laughter exploded on the upper floor before his parents finally began to descend the stairs, amused smiles plastered on their faces. You see, some days earlier, his best friend, Arleen, had invited him to go see her at the theatre where she was going to perform. Needless to say, Simon had felt the happiest person on Earth, for he had known for years Arleen had a beautiful voice, but had never gone to any of her performances. This was why he was so eager to attend, and why the slow pace his parents moved at was getting on his nerves.

"Don't worry, Simon, we'll arrive in time," his mother tried to calm him as her hands ruffled his blond, tousled hair.

"Mum, don't do that," the boy groaned as he fixed his locks back into place, an action that didn't go unnoticed and earned him another witty comment from his dad, which brought a glare out of him once again.

However, as his mother had assured, they arrived at the theatre with time to spare. Then, much to everyone's dismay, they had to deal with Simon's complaints and nonstop movements. He shifted on his seat five times per minute at least and asked for Arleen every two seconds; patience wasn't his best virtue, everybody around him could tell. That's why, when the lights went off and the boy stopped being a pain in the ass, almost everyone who was nearby gave out a relieved sigh.

Simon took a sharp breath as soon as the form of his friend came into sight and took in her stunning features. He stared with no shame to be caught, following her movements while she walked with grace towards the centre of the small stage. Her red hair was loose and fell like a short curtain down her shoulder blades, and she clutched the microphone close to her chest. But Simon didn't notice her nervousness, because the moment she stopped and turned around to face the small audience, her green eyes met his. His young heart flipped inside his chest, but the boy ignored it and gave her a soft smile, which Arleen returned.

"She looks very pretty, don't you think, Simon?" His mother spoke besides him in a tender voice, loving the way her son and Arleen interacted.

"Yeah, she does."

Silence settled over the theatre, and Arleen placed the microphone below her mouth before a harmonious melody began to float in the air.

" _Heart beats fast, colors and promises. How to be brave, how can I love when I'm afraid to fall? But watching you stand alone, all of my doubt suddenly goes away somehow…_ "

Her voice echoed through the whole theatre, lulling him and not letting him take his eyes off of her. Unsurprisingly, everyone had gone completely still and quiet; the incessant whispers had died the moment Arleen began to sing. It was breathtaking, the way her voice merged with the melodic music. Not even for a second did Simon drift his gaze away nor did he seem to blink. In fact, he wouldn't know if he had been breathing had it not been impossible not to without dying on the spot.

From where he was sitting, Simon could see how her eyes slowly closed as she slightly swayed to the rhythm of the music. There was a noticeable blush spread across her face, but other than that, she looked like she was enjoying herself. A dreamy sigh escaped his parted lips, and Simon bent forward in an attempt to get closer to the stage, ignoring the fact that his face was almost smashed into the seat before him.

The music began to fade too soon for his liking, the last accords echoing in the thin air before only her voice could be heard. Simon was on his feet a second after the song came to its end, the biggest of the smiles plastered on his flushed face and clapping his admiration towards the girl on stage.

-#-

It was a Sunday like any other; the sun glowed brightly high in the blue sky, no clouds in sight. Its light seemed to glare viciously upon the small forms of the people below, and not even the soft breeze of the morning was able to blow the heat away. Nevertheless, that didn't stop the children from going out and doing what they did best: playing without a care in the world.

"Alright, I'm starting to count… now!"

Just as the last word echoed through the yard, light yet clumsy footsteps rushed towards the farthest part. Simon ran as fast as his legs allowed him to, looking frantically for a place to hide while doing so. There was a wide, familiar grin illuminating his slight tanned features, and his brown eyes shone with utter joy. From time to time, he would sneak a glance back to where his chaser was still standing and find himself unconsciously staring at her for longer than expected. Eleven-year-old-Simon almost run into a tree consequently, but that didn't wipe the content off his features.

Finally, after what seemed hours, Simon came upon a well-hidden place, where he was completely certain his friend would never find him. There was a narrowed gap separating his home from hers, which were the only ones in the surroundings; apparently, their families had been friends for a long time now and thus been sharing ground since their grandparents were just kids.

Simon quickly slid between the houses, chuckling mischievously under his breath as he did.

"Okay, you'd better be ready to be caught!" Arleen's voice reached his ears as soon as the blond hid in the shadows provided by the buildings, which caused him to automatically take some steps back.

Arleen walked down the path made of sand. Her green eyes were constantly darting around as she worked her way towards the dark grass. A deafening silence accompanied her, which soon led her to begin to hum a random song, as she was obviously not pleased with the quietness surrounding the place. A soft blow of air escaped her lips as she came to a halt, and Arleen placed her hands on her hips and pursed her lips into a childish pout. As she stood in the middle of the path, glancing around in search of Simon, the boy decided to take some steps forwards. He couldn't help himself -it was a lost cause-, and he found himself staring at Arleen for the umpteenth time that morning.

His brown eyes were locked on her, taking in every detail of her face like it was the first time. Truth was, cute Simon had been in love with the girl for as long as he remembered. The grin fell, and his mouth opened slightly as he stared at Arleen from his spot between the houses. Her red hair was out of its usual ponytail, and Simon couldn't help but think she looked even more beautiful that way. There was a noticeable blush decorating her cheeks, and even though it was probably due to the burning heat, he liked to believe it was because of him. Simon had been so focused on the girl before him that he had unconsciously fidgeted between the walls, which had resulted into a catastrophe. He didn't know what he had done to find himself in such situation, but somehow he had managed to get stuck.

Some feet away from where he was uncomfortably standing, Arleen let out another huff and scanned the surroundings one last time when something caught her eye. As expected, it had been a matter of seconds until she ended up finding him. However, the odd sight brought an amused laugh out of her.

"You know why it's called hide-and-seek, don't you?" Arleen casually commented while she approached the boy, eyeing him closely with her bright, green eyes.

A frown crept onto his features as Simon _tried_ to glare fiercely at her, to no avail. To be fair, it was actually quite amusing the way she had found him; struggling the best he could between the thick walls of the houses, his arms unable to move more than an inch, and only his head popping out.

"I got stuck," he stated as a matter of fact, a slight pout decorating his childish features.

"I can see that." A victorious grin spread across her lips then, and she added, "Loser."

"I just got stuck!"

"So you lost."

"No! I wouldn't have gotten stuck if-" Simon stopped mid-sentence, immediately realizing his mistake.

Eyebrows furrowed, Arleen crossed her thin arms over her chest.

"If?"

But Simon wasn't going to confess his feelings yet, not like this. In fact, if it weren't for his father and his insistence, the boy would never consider such brave action. Not because he was afraid of rejection, but because he _knew_ there was no way his strong feelings would be reciprocated. Thus, Simon settled on being just her friend. Some would say he couldn't be in love with her, for he was only a kid, yet he couldn't define what he felt towards Arleen any other way.

" _If_ nothing," he ended up saying and looked away from her radiant smile for some seconds, before his brown eyes were drawn back to her flushed face. "Are you going to help me?"

"Oh, I don't know…" Arleen placed a finger under her chin, but ended up rolling her eyes at him. "Of course, dummy, you just wait here."

"Don't worry, I won't go anywhere," Simon mumbled as the girl disappeared from sight.

Soon enough, she was back. There was a pleased smile stretched on her lips, but she was holding something in her hand that would have caused the boy to recoil had he been able to move.

"What is that for?" he dared to ask, and even though he tried to pull a determined face, his voice gave him away.

Arleen merely gave him a pointed look, before saying, "Mom uses this whenever she bakes so that the biscuits won't get glued to the mould. I just thought this could work."

Then, before Simon could talk her out of it, she began to roll the butter down his arms.

"That's bloody disgusting," the blond complained, wrinkling his nose in repulsion.

"No cursing," she reprimanded him the same way his mother did. "Besides, it's your own fault, you know?" She commented, unfazed by his annoyance as she kept spreading the butter along his skin. "Okay, you should be able to-"

She stopped talking, for Simon was already out. Immediately, a wide smile spread across her face, and she threw her arms around him. Simon froze, his eyes wide due to the unexpected action, before he hesitantly wrapped his arms around her thin frame. If it was his heartbeat what he was hearing, he feared for his life. But he ignored its frenetic pace and enjoyed the warm feeling that filled his whole being as Arleen hugged him close to her. Much to his dismay though, the redhead suddenly pushed him away and took some steps back.

"Ew, you smell horrible," she exclaimed, ignoring the red colour that had tinted both their faces.

"Arleen, sweetheart!" A voice caught their attention, and Arleen waved happily at her mother, who stood by the front door with a soft smile touching her face. "Lunch time!"

The moment the word _lunch_ reached her ears, her stomach grumbled in anticipation. Embarrassment crossed her features, and she turned towards Simon, expecting him to be laughing at her. Surprisingly, the boy was looking at her intently, his brown eyes sparkling and a loving smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

"I'll see you later," he said once he snapped out of his own stupor and started walking towards the contiguous house.

"Wait!" Her hand wrapped around his wrist, stopping him mid-track, before her lips placed a soft kiss on his flustered cheek.

And just like that, Arleen ran back to where her mother was waiting for her, leaving a dazed Simon behind.

Those days were filled with joy and peace, and nothing could ever destroy that… or so they believed.

It was a day like any other, when Arleen was called by her father to come downstairs. To be honest, the urgency in his voice surprised her, for he was known for being a calm man. Thus, she quickly made her way down the stairs and to the living room. However, she stopped dead in her tracks when she found herself standing face to face with an unfamiliar man.

"Who-"

"Arleen," her mother called out from the living room and motioned for her to approach

Arleen obliged, but not without hesitation. Slowly, she sat down on the couch, next to the woman, who immediately wrapped her arms around her small frame. Frowning at the sudden act of affection, Arleen glanced at her, only to catch a glimpse of her wet, flushed cheeks. Meanwhile, her dad was pacing around the room, his arms crossed over his chest and a troubled expression on his face. The tension in the atmosphere was noticeable enough for the girl to wonder, confused, what was happening.

"Sweetie, this is Doctor Norman," her mother said, bringing the girl's attention back to the stranger. He was dressed in a white gown, the one medics used to wear, and a serious look was spread across his wrinkled face.

"Hello, Arleen." His voice was void of emotion, and he stared down at her with such scrutinizing eyes that she fidgetted uncomfortably on her seat.

When silence responded him, he turned towards the woman and gave her a harsh stare. Immediately, she gave Arleen an encouraging squeeze and tried to pull the best of her smiles. Unfortunately, the girl didn't buy it, and her frown deepened.

"Arleen, this man is going to take you somewhere you'll be safe."

Confusion began to grow within her heart.

"Safe?" She drifted her eyes towards the old man and asked, "Am I in danger?"

"We all are," was all he said.

"Then why are you not coming too?" Arleen turned to face her father then. "And why are we in danger? What-"

"Arleen!" The loud, snappy tone in his voice caught her off gurad and scared her. "Stop questioning everything, and just do what we're telling you to do!" It was probably the frightened glint in her green eyes what made him recoil, for he quickly closed his mouth and let out a sigh through his nose. "I'm sorry, I don't know what came over me."

Oddly enough, the strange man had adopted a defensive posture, as though he expected her father to begin trashing around. Thankfully, her mum touched her cheek lightly and focused the girl's attention on her.

"Say, Arleen, do you trust us?" When she received the firm nod of her daughter, she smiled softly. "Then you have to go, okay?"

As much as Arleen wanted to shake her head, to defy their orders, she had no option but to nod again. She didn't want to go, not without her family, and she still couldn't understand why they weren't accompanying her. However, she didn't say a word; the girl simply darted her eyes to her intertwined hands that were lying on her lap.

"Sweetie, why don't you go say goodbye to Simon?"

Her eyes widened. Arleen had been so focused on thinking about the reason behind that situation that she had completely forgotten about her precious friend. Simon… She couldn't bring herself to say goodbye to him; he meant way too much. Nevertheless, Arleen wasn't about to leave without seeing him one last time, for she knew he would never forgive her. Thus, she quietly stood from the couch and walked out, heading Simon's.

"Arleen, come in–are you crying?" Simon's mom answered the door and let her in, watchin her with concerned eyes the entire time.

"Can I see Simon?" Her words were barely audible, but the woman patted her shoulder and led her upstairs.

"He's in his room, playing the drums, so just go in. If you need me, I'll be in the kitchen, okay?"

Arleen nodded absently, as she was not really listening to her, before she walked over to Simon's room. The loud sound of drums reached her ears, and she gently knocked on the door before letting herself in, ignoring the warning sign hanging on the wood. As his mother had said, Simon was playing the drums, so lost in concentration he hadn't noticed she had walked in until she approached him. Instantly, the boy jumped to his feet, and one of the drumsticks he was gripping dropped to the ground due to the abrupt movement.

"Arlie, wha-"

Her arms wrapped around him, and Arleen pulled him close to her. Again, the boy froze at the sudden exhibition of affection but wrapped his arms around her nonetheless. Contentment filled his heart, warmth clenched around it the same way she was hugging him. However, the smile that had started to tug at the corner of his mouth faded away the moment he felt something wet caress the skin of his neck.

"What's wrong?" Simon asked as he gently tried to push her back, only for her to tighten her grip around him. This time, his young heart didn't beat with excitement, instead, panic and fright squeezed his chest. "Arlie, what's wrong?"

"I'm going to miss you so much," she whispered, and her voice held a tone of desolation that made the boy frown.

"I don't understand."

Finally, Arleen let him go and stepped away from him. Her eyes were shimmering with unshed tears, and she gave him a sad smile that caused his heart to drop.

"I'm leaving."

"What?" He blurted out, his brown eyes widened in shock. "Why?"

"They won't tell me," she said, shaking her head and pursing her lips in frustration.

"They?"

However, Arleen didn't answer any his questions. She dropped her gaze to the ground, wiped her eyes and sighed heavily.

"I'm sorry, Simon; you've been the best friend I could have ever asked for," she admitted, her lips pursed into a tight smile that seemed way too fake for him to buy.

Something inside of him churned with anxiety, driving his young mind into a crazy whirlwind of emotions. Arleen couldn't look at him, not when his expression seemed so devastated, not when his features were furrowed in utter confusion and innocence.

"But you can't go." For some reason, his voice sounded determined and firm, immediately drawing her attention back to him. His lips were pursed into a thin line, and his eyes were gazing at her with unexpected intensity. "You _can't_."

"Simon, I-"

"No, you really can't go!" The urgent, desperate tone in his voice caught her off, and she opened her mouth to speak but he wasn't done. "I love you."

That time, the words had slipped between his lips like a blow of soft breeze, a sigh with no strength, with no hope. His eyes had lost the determination that had been gleaming in them some seconds before, but he was still looking intently at her, staring into her shocked gaze.

"Please, Arlie, don't leave."

Simon tried to convince her, but something in his mind told him it was not on her hand. Yet, the way her hand suddenly grazed his cheek made his heart flutter. And then, he felt the pressure of her mouth against his as she placed a sweet, innocent kiss on his lips, leaving a tickling sensation on them when she retreated.

"Goodbye, Simon," she whispered so low he barely heard her before she turned towards the door.

It wasn't supposed to happen that way, with her returning his feelings but leaving him devastated by the turn of events. No. His dad had assured him there would be fireworks and happiness, that his chest would stop hurting, that there would be nothing that could make him feel sad from then on. But instead, a gloomy feeling surrounded his heart as he watched his first –and only– friend walk out of his room, and his life.

"Arleen, will I see you again?" The girl glanced at him from over her shoulder to send him a small smile and a hesitant nod. "Then I'll be waiting for you, so don't forget about me."

There was a pregnant pause, then she winked at him and said, "I'd never forget about you, dummy."

Unfortunately, fate had other plans for them.

* * *

 **The song sang by Arleen is _Thousand Years_ and belongs to Christina Perri.**


	2. Conspiracies

So I had to update this chapter again, I really don't know what happened. But sorry about that.

* * *

CHAPTER ONE:

Conspiracies

* * *

There was a knock on the door as someone hit the wooden surface in impatience, almost angrily. Footsteps echoed through the floor below, the annoying clacking of Mrs Anderson's heels slipping into the ears of his sleeping son, who woke up with a groan. Slowly, his eyelids cracked open, and a pair of chocolate brown eyes glanced around the messy room, before the teenager rolled over to face the wall. Immediately, the soft breeze that creeped through the open window hit his bare back, and consequently, a cold shiver crawled up his spine. In spite of the fact that he was almost freezing under the vicious attack of the winterly breeze, he made no move to get up from the comfy mattress and simply ignored the glaring rays of the sun, that slid between the curtains, by covering his tired eyes with the back of his hand. He was beyond exhausted, for he had been playing the drums till dawn due to him having a competition the following Saturday. Unfortunately, the boy hadn't still found the formula to deal with his high school career and his music contests at the same time. So, unsurprisingly, the exertion and stress coming from that were draining his last bit of energy.

"Simon!"

As the high-pitched voice of his mother called him from downstairs, Simon could only sigh heavily and whine under his breath. Maybe if he just ignored her and went back to sleeping...

"Simon!"

No. It was pointless, and Simon knew it far too well. Thus, the boy rolled back to his previous position, then sat up and ran a hand through his tousled hair before rubbing his face, as if the sleep would go away just like that. Finally, the teenager placed his bare feet on the cold floor, dragged them across the room to head the door and began his descend down the wooden stairs. However, when he reached the bottom, no one was there. There was no sight of his mother; the woman had disappeared like smoke in the thin air, leaving a quiet hall and an open door behind. Arching an eyebrow, Simon shook his head and decided to have breakfast on his own. But, on his way to the kitchen, something caught his eye and made him stop. A photo was hanging on the wall; it showed two children, a boy and a girl. The girl had a big smile on her face as she clutched a wooden spoon on her tiny hand, and her eyes were locked on the boy next to her, who was glaring at the piece of chocolate that covered his nose.

 _Arleen_.

The name floated in his mind for some seconds as Simon stared at the smiling face of the redhead, and the same pang of solitude crossed his heart, before he resumed his walk. It had been almost five years since Arleen had left, five years of wondering the reason why she did. He was eleven then, and as a kid, he had refused to believe she was gone. That was the reason why he had kept knocking on her door, and not even when her mother yelled at him not to come back again, did he stop. They had told him that time cured it all, and even though Simon knew the pain that squeezed his heart would never go away, time had showed him something very important: there was no use in denying the fact that Arleen had left him. So, gradually, he stopped looking for the girl, for it was only bringing depression to him. But, he still waited for the day they'd meet again; something they both had promised.

A loud _bang_ echoed in the air, immediately stopping him dead in his tracks and putting his hair on end. Heart beating wildly against its cage, Simon rushed back to the front door and out of the house. The sight that greeted him drained the colour from his face, turned his legs into jelly and punched him in the gut, effectively bringing him to his knees.

His mother was lying on the grass, which was painted red with the blood that was seeping from her trembling body. One of her hands clutched her stomach, and the other one lay motionless by her side. Quickly, and after stumbling over more than once, Simon kneeled next to her. Shock and desperation shone in his brown eyes as he tried to comprehend what was happening.

"M-mum, wh-what—" he chocked out, tears already flooding his sight.

The woman hushed him and tried to lift her free hand to his wet cheek, only for it to drop limply on the grass as the last bit of life abandoned her body, and her eyes became dull. Instantly, panic exploded in his chest. Feeling more hopeless than ever, Simon started to shake her lifeless body in an useless attempt to make her eyes open again.

"Mum!" he cried out. "Mum!"

Footsteps approached him from the distance, but he paid them no attention and continued to call for his mother, desperate. It was only when someone stopped by his feet that he became aware of the people surrounding him, each of them dressed in long, white gowns.

"Indications show the neighbours got into a fight, and this woman tried to stop them," said one of them, scanning the place with analysing eyes as he spoke. "It looks like Mr. Reynolds was keeping a gun and decided to use it today, taking his own wife with him."

"What do we do, then?"

"Follow the orders given to us; we came for the boy, and he's here."

Then, before Simon could process their words, something cold and sharp punctured his neck, and the world around him melted into darkness.

—·—

Simon was gone, dead.

As much as he tried to get the words into his head, the more he repeated them, the less he believed them. It was plainly stupid; it made no sense at all. Ever since he had woken up in that white room, dressed in what seemed to be blue pyjamas, he had heard nothing but those words. However, seeing as he had refused to _understand them_ —as those _bloody_ men had literally said—, he had been forced to remain there with nothing that could get his mind off the dead eyes of his mother. Day after day, someone had come up to him, only to leave right away after realizing he was still stubborn enough to ignore them. The boy had no clue as to why it seemed to be so important to them that he spoke those words, but after what felt long weeks, he couldn't take it anymore.

"Simon is gone, dead."

He couldn't bring himself to talk back as the scrutinizing stare of the man before him scanned his face. Dr. Norman, was it? To be honest, he didn't care who that man was, nor did he plan on asking him about it. A metal table stood between them, so clean the boy could see his reflection on it. Dull eyes stared back at him when he fixed his gaze on it, and he immediately noticed the dark bags that had formed under them due to the lack of sleep and consecutive exhaustion that invaded his body. He was a mess; there was no denying it.

Finally, the boy repeated the words, and his voice sounded croaked and drained of energy. However, if Dr. Norman noticed it, he ignored it and smiled, obviously pleased.

"Good, I must say I was starting to run out of patience with you." He used two fingers to push his glasses up, before his gaze fell upon the documents scattered in front of him. "Now, there are only two rules you cannot break," he stated, looking up to cast the boy a knowing glanced, before he went back to reading the documents.

Dr. Norman hummed and nodded twice, as though he was having a conversation with the paper. After a minute or so, he took his glasses off and placed them on the table, next to the documents. Then, his hawk-like-gaze drifted to the blond, who sat opposite to him.

"I don't think it's necessary to show you what happens to the ones who break them." The boy caught the threat behind his words and shook his head. "Well, look at that! We think alike, after all. Good, good." The man clapped his hands mockingly, which earned him a glare that he decided not to notice. "Rule one: do as told, no questions and no complaints. I really hate it when some of you cry; it's distracting. And, rule two: don't talk about the past." Dr. Norman leaned forward slightly and added, "Simon's dead, remember?"

The boy could only nod, even though he wanted nothing more than to kick Dr. Norman where the sun didn't shine and get the hell out of that place. What stopped him from doing so wasn't something moral, but the realization that there was no one waiting for him in case he escaped. And that scared him more than he would ever admit.

Dr. Norman took something from his pocket and tossed it at him from across the table, causing the blond to quickly slam a hand on it to prevent its fall. It was a small paper, like a sticker, and something was written on it.

"Subject A-5," he read out loud, frowned and looked back at the man. "What does this mean?"

"Put that on that shirt, right over your chest." Dr. Norman ignored his confusion and began to pick up his belongings. "Someone will lead you to where the rest of the subjects are."

He got up and started to make his way towards the closed door, but before he crossed it, he lifted a hand, as though he had forgotten something. Swiftly, he turned to where the boy still sat.

"You go by Newt now."

With that, he was out, and two different people, dressed in white gowns, walked in. Not daring to speak a word, Newt let them take him away from the room.

The corridor was illuminated by artificial light; no windows let the rays of the sun percolate through the thick walls. Now that he thought about it, Newt didn't recall seeing one in the room he'd been staying in, either. The curious fact awoke a question in his mind, and he was about to open his mouth, when Dr. Norman's words crossed his head.

 _No questions._

Newt pursed his lips into an annoyed frown, but other than that, remained silent and calm as he followed the strange people down the corridor. He had glued the stick to his chest, just like he had been told, and it seemed to shine under the intense light provided by the lamps above him. Nothing made sense to Newt ever since he had woken up in that room —even the white sneakers covering his feet looked out of place. However, he knew nothing good would come to him if he decided to retort their rules.

Simon was dead.

Dr. Norman had made it clear for him to understand the meaning behind those words. His past life was forgotten, and Newt almost wished for it to be actually true. Maybe, things would be easier that way; not having the dead eyes of his mother following him everywhere, or the rosy face of Arleen smiling sadly at him whenever he looked at her house... But, something told him he wasn't going to be near that house in very long.

Newt sighed. As if that would ever be enough for her remembrance to disappear from his mind. No, it wouldn't. And, for some reason, the thought lightened his heart. Of course, Newt couldn't deny the fact that it still hurt him to think about her, but deep inside, he didn't want to forget. The moments he had shared with her were way too precious for him to allow something so horrible to happen.

"This is where we leave you."

The monotonous voice of the man snapped him out of his thoughts, and Newt did his best not to snort. Instead, his brown eyes flickered to the closed doors that stood before him. His ears immediately caught the sound of people talking, even laughing. Curiously, the sound brought a smile to his lips; it had been so long since he had heard something as genuine as laughter.

"Go in," the woman urged, obviously not having the patience to deal with him anymore.

Newt placed both hands on the doors and pushed lightly. However, he put more force than necessary, and the doors _flew_ open. Soon enough, a loud sound echoed through the room behind them as they slammed against the wall. Immediately, silence replaced the animated conversations that had been taking place before, and every pair of eyes turned to where he stood. It was a spacious room, where tons of boys and girls were sitting at tables, and it didn't take him long to realize none of them was much older than him, even though he did see some who still held the innocent look of a twelve-year-old child.

Minutes passed by, and Newt was starting to hate the attention he was attracting. Thankfully, an Asian boy approached him.

"Yo, name's Minho," he said as he offered him a hand to shake, which Newt accepted after a second of hesitation.

"Hey, look, he's subject A-5!" another boy shouted when he was close enough, then patted Minho's back as an amused grin spread across his face. "That means he's probably more important than you," he pressed as he pointed to his shirt.

With an annoyed frown on his face, Minho swatted his hand away, thus revealing the words _Subject A-7_ behind.

"That means shit, Frypan," he snapped. "Besides, you're A-9."

Frypan merely shrugged.

"So, what don't we take subject A-5 with us before he decides to aim his anger at something more fragile than a door, like me, for example?" He began to walk back to the table he'd been sitting before and was soon followed by a grumpy Minho.

"Will you quit calling me that?" Newt argued, finally snapping out of his short stupor, and ran to catch up with Minho. "I have a bloody name."

"Which is?"

"S—" Newt stopped dead in his tracks before he made a huge mistake and, after noticing the knowing look he was receiving from Minho, cleared his throat. "Newt."

-#-

Newt had been sitting on the same chair, at the same table, in the same bloody room, for hours. Honestly, he was starting to grow bored out of his mind. Yet, he knew he was better there than alone in the white room. He had talked to some of the boys and girls, the ones who had approached him to introduce themselves, and shared some words with Minho and Frypan. However, not being able to talk about oneself was resulting to be more complicated than anticipated, and having a conversation that lasted more than five seconds was an impossible mission.

"Don't worry, it happened to me when I got here, too," Frypan said, trying to enlighten his mood.

At that, Newt perked up.

"When was that?"

Frypan hummed, as though he were pondering his answer.

"I actually have no idea," he confessed. "But I've been here long; I know everyone and have talked to them twice at least."

Beside him, Minho snorted in amusement.

"Except for Riley," he commented nonchalantly.

Frypan just rolled his eyes and shrank back into his seat.

"That's because she's not here most of the time."

Newt, who didn't know almost anyone there, was curious about the new name. However, before he had the chance to ask about it, the doors opened and Dr. Norman walked in.

"Subject B-13," he called out, and Newt could've sworn there was a maniac smirk on his lips, but it was gone before he could look closely.

"And there she goes," Minho spoke again as he let out a sigh. "Was wondering how long they'd take to get her."

That attracted Newt's gaze, which left Dr. Norman's face. His heart almost stopped then and there. His eyes widened out of shock, and his jaw went slack at the unexpected sight. A girl had stood from one of the seats, some feet away from him, and was now walking towards the man. Her red locks swung around her slender figure as she moved, and Newt couldn't help but be amazed by her confidence. There was no denying it; she was attractive —even dressed in the same blue uniform everyone else was wearing. Her lips were pulled into a thin line, and her annoyance was evident. In all her resolution, she passed by their table, and that was when Newt noticed something strange, yet familiar, about her. Unconsciously, he leaned forward in an attempt to watch her more closely.

A yelp escaped his mouth when Minho's elbow connected with his stomach, and Newt sent him a shocked stare.

"Dude, you obviously don't know the meaning of dissimulating," the boy hissed and rolled his eyes, before suddenly, a smirk spread across his lips. "Well, you got her attention, at least."

And it was true. She hadn't stopped, but the girl was certainly giving Newt a disapproving glance from the corner of her eye. Nevertheless, when his brown gaze clashed with her green one, the two teens inhaled a sharp breath. The evident surprise caused her to flatter a little, but she quickly averted her eyes from him, and soon enough, her figure disappeared behind the doors.

"I say Newt here is her type."

"I don't know, it looked more like she was repulsed by him."

"Like when you tried to approach her?"

"She definitely was disgusted then."

The table burst into laughter, but Newt wasn't listening to none of them. His eyes were still locked on the closed doors, and his mind replayed the short encounter with Riley. Something inside him fluttered with hope... and something else he decided not to speak about at the moment being. There was only one thing he was sure of: he knew that girl. But she went by other name -as did he- when they met so many years ago.

There was no Riley then, but _Arleen_.

Shaking his head to clear his mind, the blond turned towards Frypan, who was chuckling at something Minho had said.

"You said she's not here most of the time," he began, catching not only his attention, but the rest as well. "Why's that?"

One of the boys pointed at him with his big hand.

"See? You're already wrapped around her finger," he shouted accusatively, which earned him a glare from Minho that effectively silenced him.

"Don't know, brother," Frypan admitted, easily ignoring the jab at Newt. "They just seem to have taken a liking to her."

"I asked Sonya about that, but she doesn't know much," Minho added as his eyes wandered to a girl with long, blonde hair, who was sitting next to the now vacant seat in which Riley had been some seconds ago. "Just that Rachel kind of made a deal with them."

A frown crossed Newt's features as Frypan shrugged casually.

"I'd tell you to ask her yourself, but if Sonya doesn't know, you won't get anything out of it."

"Probably a punch in the face," someone commented and snickered, and the rest began to laugh again at some inside joke Newt obviously didn't understand. "I bet Gally's eye is still black!"

Minho, noticing his obvious confusion, decided to explain it to him.

"She's not much of a talker. Honestly, I don't give a fuck about it. But some people here tried to stick their noses into her affairs, constantly asking about the same thing you're wondering about," he said and placed a hand under his chin as his lips turned slightly upwards into an amused smirk. "Guess what? She's not tolerant either."

To say that Newt was stunned by the revelation would be an understatement. Back when they were just kids, the boy knew her to be friendly and caring; besides, she loathed violence. Whenever someone fought or argued in front of her, she would jump in to attempt to stop them. That was why Newt was having a hard time accepting that new, unfamiliar side of her. Then again, they hadn't seen each other for years, and she wasn't the little girl he remembered her to be.

On the other hand, he couldn't help but wonder what could have pushed her to make a deal with those people, and his concerns increased when the boys told him about the awful state she came out in every time she was called.

-#-

Her heart beat in worry as Riley made her way down the illuminated corridor, following Dr. Norman. The man hadn't even spared her a glance, for he knew she wouldn't dare to ask him any question about the new boy. Needless to say, the relationship between the two teens was well known by WICKED; the documents explained it with no fault. Therefore, Dr. Norman had no doubt the girl's mind was spinning nonstop, looking for something that could explain the inexplicable. He knew it'd be a matter of time before the confusion she felt turned into rage, and he couldn't wait for that to happen. There were many people working there that enjoyed seeing Rachel in pain, and Dr. Norman was one of them. Ever since the girl had managed to get to their Chancellor to try to talk her into making a deal, he had done what was in his hands to make her suffer. To think that a child had dared to break the rules and had gotten out of it without much more punishment than an insignificant rebuke- it was indignant.

While dragging her feet along the slippery floor, she followed the man until they stopped in front of a white door. There was no need to tell her about what would be coming next; she knew it too well. However, what she wasn't expecting —and Dr. Norman definitely didn't, either— was for a woman to greet her when they walked in. She had short, blond hair and a kind smile plastered on her pale face. As soon as the door opened, she had approached them with a notebook in her arms.

"Thank you for bringing her in, Dr. Norman." Her voice was cold as she spoke, and she held the man's gaze with her hard one. "Chancellor Paige has assigned today's procedure to me, so you won't be needed here."

His eyes were narrowed into slits as he glared at the short woman. His discontent was evident, yet Riley felt the luckiest girl in the world. Well, maybe not the luckiest, but she definitely was relieved. She knew that woman, Dr. Neah Wallace; out of all the people who worked there, Riley had managed to find someone like her. Neah was a kind woman, who cared for all the children brought by WICKED, and had helped her whenever the girl had been in trouble; something that wasn't common to see among the _scientists_ there.

"Very well," Dr. Norman grunted, obviously not pleased in the slightest. "I'll get her after an hour."

"That won't be necessary," Neah said curtly. "I myself will take her to the dorms."

Dr. Norman was about to say something, but his pocket suddenly shook as the bleeper inside went off. Without much of a goodbye, the man stormed out and slammed the door shut behind him. Almost instantly, Riley let out a breath she didn't know she was holding.

"Come on, the sooner we start this, the sooner you'll be out," Neah urged as she walked over to the single bed, which was located in the middle of the room.

Reluctantly, Riley followed her and lay down on it. Neah was already working on the tubes and other things the girl would rather not see. Then, she moved to the bed and punctured her arm with a thin needle.

"We don't have much time, and I know you have questions," she spoke lowly and winced, as though it was her arm the one being punctured.

"Why is he here? I made a deal with Paige so this wouldn't happen," Riley quickly attacked, her green eyes narrowed as she stared up at the ceiling.

Neah sighed heavily but didn't flatter. She moved away to write something on the computer before going back to the girl's side.

"Riley, you couldn't really expect that deal to work. WICKED doesn't need your approval to work on your body," she said sternly, but Riley could hear the fatigue in her voice. "The only thing you achieved by commiting such rebellious act was to anger some important people."

Silence fell within the room as Rachel swallowed the words, and it didn't take her long to realize the doctor was, indeed, right. However, the fact that they had been using her for their own enjoyment, toying with her, as though she were a doll, caused her blood to boil in utter rage.

"I know you're angry; I sometimes don't understand their actions, either," Neah admitted, before the sound of her blood being drained from her body began to echo throughout the room. "But there's nothing I can do."

"I know," Riley mumbled weakly; dizziness was starting to roll down her veins, and her eyelids became heavier by seconds. "But I need to talk to him about this. He needs to know."

"Riley... That'd be pointless. The trials are about to start, and your memories will be removed," the woman pointed out, reminding her of the inevitable. "Don't do something reckless—don't give me that look, I know you well enough. But listen to me this time; don't give them another reason to hurt you. Or _him_. The trials alone are already hard enough, and you don't need to be put in more danger. Your survival won't be guaranteed if you make more enemies."

The girl let her eyelids close. Her breaths began to become heavy and laboured, but she used her remaining strength to ask for one last favour.

"Send—send us together at least," she pleaded and fluttered her eyes open to give the woman an imploring look. "I'm aware of the risks... but I'm willing to take them." The last words came out as a puff of air.

As the girl slipped into slumber, and Neah quickly stopped the machine, consequently stopping the blood from being drained, silence flooded the place once again. When the woman had made sure Riley breathed calmly and had checked out her vitals, she sat down on the chair beside the bed. A frown had worked its way to her forehead, and she bit her lip as she thought her plea over. If she did so, Neah would have to be ready to accept her fate —her death.

Her tired eyes drifted to Riley, before a sad smile crept to her lips. She couldn't believe she was willing to give up her own life for that girl.

"I'm afraid that I won't be able to protect you this time, little one," she said, using the nickname she had given her so many time ago, when Riley was nothing but an innocent kid.

-#-

During five long days, Riley had repeated the plan Neah had designed in her head as much as she had been able to. And, while she did, she had made sure not to cross paths with Simon—Newt. The boy had tried to approach her more than once, but every time he had stood from his seat, Minho or Frypan had managed to stop him. Riley had seen it, the way his eyes followed her everywhere, longing and hurt. But the girl had ignored him and her aching heart the best she could.

Of course, there was nothing she wished more than to talk to him. But Neah had been clear: if they wanted the plan to work, Riley had to act like she didn't know him. The woman had literally said: "that will keep him out of the spotlight" and "you just have to make sure he won't go with the rest when he's called."

To be honest, Riley was still trying to get to that part. How could she accomplish such thing without having him question her actions?

"Thank God, he's been called." Sonya's voice snapped her out of her trail of thoughts, and she looked up to see that, indeed, Newt was standing up from his seat. "He wouldn't stop staring at you; it was seriously staring to get on my nerves."

But Riley wasn't listening to her anymore, because more boys began to empty their respective seats and walk towards the doors, where a man was calling for them. Today was the day, and Rachel had to spring into action.

"...and Subject A-17," concluded the man. Then, without waiting for everyone to reach the doors, he walked away.

Immediately, Riley jumped to her feet. Her eyes were fixed on Newt as he walked along with Minho. Ignoring the bewildered gaze of Sonya, she rushed to them. Without them noticing, she located herself next to Minho and whispered, "Keep walking."

Fortunately for her, Minho was so shocked he didn't find it in himself to make a comment about it, especially after seeing the serious look on the redhead's face. Thus, he nodded shortly and continued making his way to the doors. That was how Riley found herself staring into the brown eyes of her childhood friend, the one who still kept her heart in his hands. Shock and confusion were written all over his face as he observed her, and she took just one second to look him over.

He surely had grown into a young man—a handsome, young man. His features had sharpened, and his body had literally evolved like a damned _Pokemon_. Only his eyes remained the same; they held the same kindness they shone with back when they were nothing but kids. She watched them as they wandered over her face, then her body before finally going back to stare into her green gaze. Quickly, she casted a glance over her shoulder to see that Minho was leaving the room. Her insides churned out of anxiety; she was running out of time.

Knowing that knocking him out to stop him from following the rest of the boys would be too extreme, she placed her hands on both sides of his face and pulled him towards her. Their lips met in rushed, desperate motion and didn't move as they savoured the short, emotional moment.

"Stay here," she suddenly whispered, her breath hitting his mouth.

Newt could only stare, dumbfound, at the redhead as she ran out of the room without casting a single glance at him.

-#-

They had been sent; the first ones. Riley had gone with them, replacing her good friend. But she wouldn't remember any of that when she woke up, and Neah could only hope her life wouldn't be as difficult as it had been during her years in WICKED quarters. It was a naïve hope, but it was all the woman could do for her now: pray for her and for the rest of them.

Slowly, she took off the mask, threw it into a bag and began to follow the rest of the doctors out. From that moment on, they'd watch the boys and girls through a screen, unable to do anything but that: observing. When she was about to step out, a voice stopped her.

"Dr. Wallace, you're required by Dr. Janson."

She merely nodded and resumed her walk. It didn't matter; she had already braced her fate. A small, sad smile spread across her face as she stepped into the room Dr. Janson was waiting in.

 _"Good luck, little one."_

Soon enough, the thunderous sound of a gun going off echoed through the entire building.

* * *

 **Thanks to everyone who read, followed and favourited. And a special thank you to** _amillipede_ **,** _Green30_ **,** _mockingjaybrandybuck_ **,** _thechildofmischief_ **and** _softball007_ **for reviewing!**

 **Don't forget to review! I really don't know why this isn't getting as much readers and such as my other story, but if you see something you don't like please tell me.**

 **Next chapter will take place in the Glade at last!**


	3. The Glade and Frypan's food

Thank you so much to every lovely person who dropped by during these months. I am finally back to this story! Just a reminder: this is a **PREQUEL** to **_Bloody Amnesia_** , which you can find on my profile page. I suggest that you read that one before jumping on here.

* * *

CHAPTER TWO:

 _The Glade and Frypan's food_

The sound of metal clashing against metal woke her with a startle, and it took her less than a second to start panicking. The place she was in was moving wildly, like it was being shaken by some invisible force. Her mind felt like a blank hole of nothingness; unanswered questions were aimlessly floating around. Any kind of basic information —any sort of information for the matter— about her was gone, seemingly taken away from her. Swimming in her head felt like falling into an endless abysm, one surrounded by a terrifying sensation of confusion.

Only a word roamed her head, pushing through the barriers she so desperately tried to break; yet it felt foreign, like it had been placed there by an authoritative force. It was a name.

 _Her_ name.

 _Riley._

The mere taste of it in her tongue was repulsive; it dragged the most disgusting sensation to grimly caress her lips and made her grimace in disdain. In an attempt of _ironically_ forgetting about that –her– name, she let her eyelids slide open in slow motion, as if she were dreading what she would see. Darkness. A cold, impenetrable darkness greeted her the moment her eyes fluttered open, and no matter how much she squinted through it, they wouldn't adjust to the complete absence of light. Her heart was beating fast, and she could feel cold sweat forming on the back of her neck. Once again, questions flooded her mind, but trying to understand the situation had proven to be pointless, and it only managed to bring forth more panic.

There was something else she could feel: metal, its painful coldness punching at her back with no remorse. She was lying on it, and her whole body convulsed every time the place jolted, which unfortunately, happened too frequently. Only her head seemed to be leaning on something that resembled to a pillow, and she silently thanked whoever that had thrown her into that haunted house for being unexpectedly kind about it. However, after some minutes of hesitation, she decided she was done with lying on that piece of metal and carefully positioned herself into a sitting stance. Then, placing her hands on the cold surface and using them to support her weight, she stood up. Slowly not to hit a wall or something that may be in the way, she reached out and began to walk forward.

 _Bump._

Her left foot kicked something soft. Frowning, and ignoring the sudden jump her heart did, she kicked the invisible thing again.

 _Bump_.

A groan followed the action, and she stopped dead in her tracks. Due to the shock, she recoiled to her previous position, only to bump against something else and stumble backwards. The next seconds were driven by a sequence of screams and annoyed exclamations.

"Where am I?"

"What's this place?"

"Who—who are you?!"

"No, who are _you_?!"

And suddenly, realization hit everyone like it had her.

"I don't know! I—I don't remember anything!"

"Neither do I!"

"Why can't I remember?!"

As everything around her was engulfed by agitation and chaos, Rachel eventually dropped to the floor. She was aware of the high probabilities she had of being accidentally kicked in the face, but it felt right at the moment. The place was still moving fast, and those screams only seemed to shake everything around her.

A yelp escaped her mouth when a foot stepped on her hand, before she quickly jumped to her feet.

"Who the hell stepped on my hand?" she demanded to know, glaring into the impenetrable darkness.

What she had not been expecting was for silence to respond; everything had gone incredibly quiet the moment she had opened her mouth. For some seconds, while she frowned at the lack of response of her _companions_ , she began to believe she had imagined those voices, even the stamp. But the thoughts faded when the shower of yells stroke again.

"Who are you?!"

"Is it a girl?"

"Who cares? I can't see a thing!"

Just with the last one of the remarks of the people surrounding her, whom she had awkwardly realized seemed to be only boys, the room came to a halt. None of them had been expecting the sudden jolt, so consequently, they all fell to the ground like puppets with a loud thud. Some groans were heard, but before anyone could say anything, the ceiling split into two and slid open. Immediately, a blinding light glared into her eyes, causing them to furrow in an attempt to avoid the painful attack. Slowly, Riley pushed herself up, momentarily forgetting about the boys as she tried to catch a glimpse of the world above her.

Much to her displeasure, though, a dull sky was the only thing she could see from her spot inside the cell. Yes, cell; that place resembled to some area assigned to imprisonment. It was spacious, indeed, but built out of metal bars that let no light sneak in between. It was then that the girl let her eyes wander around her cell companions, and when she did, her features creased in wonder. As she had previously thought, there was no girl in sight besides her. But, at the moment, Rachel pushed the curious fact to the back of her head and examined the boys. All of them were dressed in comfy clothes: plain shirts, trousers and trainers. Just the same attire she wore, with the exception that hers weren't soaked in sweat. In total, they weren't more than fifteen, including herself. Some of them were staring up at the end of the cell, while others remained quiet, lost in thought and sneaking glances at the rest.

"I'm going to take a look," someone suddenly said, attracting her gaze.

It was a boy of eighteen at most, with short, blond hair and bright brown eyes. He was fairly muscular and had a prominent nose. With those words, he had instantly grabbed everyone's attention. Truth be told, Rachel felt highly relieved, seeing that someone amongst them was rational enough to put his feelings aside and take the reins of the situation in hand. Thankfully, she was not the only one to acknowledge his resolution, for an Asian boy firmly approached him to offer him a hand.

In a matter of seconds, the blond was out of the cell and sight.

"Now, what?" One of the boys asked, a _very_ hairy boy.

But, before anyone could reply, the lad was back.

"Okay, you—what's your name?" he asked, looking at the boy that had helped him, who raised an eyebrow.

"Lucky for you, you asked the only question with answer." Riley couldn't help but find both his light tone and sarcasm pleasant. "Name's Minho."

The boy simply nodded, ignoring the first part and continued, "Minho, you're going to help me get them out." He pointed to the rest before adding, "Then, we'll think about everything else."

It didn't take a fool to notice the discomfort on Minho's face; he probably despised being ordered around. However, after a moment of hesitation, he reluctantly followed his orders and turned towards the closest person, who happened to be her. His eyes bored into hers, dark and expectant, before a sarcastic smile appeared on his face.

"Ladies first," he mocked as he motioned for her to approach, leaning slightly to the side.

The girl did as told, even though Minho could read, by the annoyed expression that crossed her features, she wasn't happy at all. Much to his surprise, she stuck her hand towards him and smiled innocently.

"I'll gladly help you out," she commented, her innocent look immediately changing into one of amused malice. Some snorts were heard, before Minho blinked away his shock and grinned, admiring her sense of humour.

"We'll discuss my masculinity later; now, get the hell outta here."

With that, he intertwined his hands so as to propel her to the boy that stood impatiently waiting above them. Somehow, his light tone and sarcasm managed to bring a smile to her face and relieve her worried mind. Mentally shaking her head, Riley got a hold of the hand the boy was offering her, gripped the top of the box —now that she looked closely, it resembled to a huge box more than it did to a cell— with her other hand and pushed herself up. The first thing that came to her sight was a field, spread all around and painting the ground bright green. Slowly, the girl took some steps forward in order to make room for the next person, before she took in every detail of that wide scenery.

Her eyes were caught in the huge amount of joists, perfectly organized in stacks at some feet away. The strange sight brought a frown to her face, yet she quickly shrugged it off and resumed her inspection. Far from where she was standing, dark trees provided some shadows to the _glade_. To be quite honest, they looked almost artificial; like they had fell from the sky instead of growing as they should have. Besides, a gloomy feeling emerged from the place, and for some odd reason, it attracted her. Turning on her heels, Rachel spotted a small area, whose brownish colour contrasted with the bright shade of the grass, like they were defying it. Overall, the whole field was void of life and _something_ surrounding it gave her the feeling of being trapped.

Not just something.

Riley couldn't find words to describe the immense walls that circled the place, made of stone and decorated with thick vines. Unconsciously, she recoiled at the sight of them, as they seemed to be glaring down at her menacingly. Her back collided with someone, who consequently stumbled backwards but managed to grab her by her shoulders to steady her.

"Sorry," she muttered as she stepped away from them, and then turned around to come face to face with the _very_ hairy boy who had been standing next to her in the cell. And by _very_ , she meant it was almost ridiculous the amount of hair he had grown on his face. How come a young teen like him could wear a beard like that? That was the question that crossed her mind the moment she saw him. Nonetheless, the boy offered her a smile –that she oddly managed to see through all the hair surrounding his mouth– and shook his head, waving off her apology.

"No worries, girl," he kindly said, before sticking out a big hand towards her. "I'm Frypan."

His good nature was clearly appreciated, as Rachel took his hand in her slender one and shook it.

"Riley."

Then, her green eyes glanced over his shoulder to the boy that was helping Minho out. They exchanged a few words before they were joined by another teen, probably older than them but with the same muscular complexion.

"This doesn't look too good, does it?" Frypan's voice caused her to drift her attention back to him.

He was staring at the huge walls, and something akin to fear glowed in his brown gaze. Honestly, Riley couldn't blame him, for she was feeling that same fright herself, and as much as she tried to remain calm, her legs still trembled slightly under her weight.

Suddenly, a scream, one filled with panic, made her heart give another unexpected jolt and managed to break their stare on the Walls to turn towards a short boy.

"What the hell is this place?!" he shouted, an edge on his voice, as he looked at everything frantically.

It was like a time bomb had exploded the second he had opened his mouth. Shouts began to spread across the field, louder by seconds and quickly increasing in number. Before Riley could understand what was happening, everything around her burst into chaos. Fists were thrown carelessly, with the only purpose of punching the hell out of everyone nearby, and soon enough, screams and angry _growls_ filled the glade. Panic floated the atmosphere, along with confusion and an unconditional fright as the boys fought like a pack of wild dogs. Someone was so scared he brought up the abrupt idea of spending the rest of his damned life there, which had only resulted in everyone going even madder.

"Damn, I really don't feel like getting myself into that fight," Frypan mumbled by her side, his eyes fixed on the commotion, as well. For some seconds, Riley had honestly forgotten about him, but immediately felt relieved at the realization that he had enough common sense not to get involved.

Fortunately, Minho and some others rushed to the conflict and started to separate the crazy boys. However, it wasn't until the boy that had gotten everyone out of the box spoke that they seemed to calm down.

"What do you think you're doing, fightin' like wild animals?!" Nick cut in, his voice echoing loudly across the field, effectively grabbing their attention. He mumbled something to himself, walked over to where the boys stood and crossed his arms over his chest. In a way, he looked like a father scolding his children, adopting a disappointed yet authoritative posture. "You're not the only ones who are clueless as to what the fuck is goin' on. For all I know, every single one of us has no memory about anything; we've been put here like some toys, waiting for someone to play with us. But we must stay calm, don't let panic take control, because if that happens, we won't live to see tomorrow."

Silence followed his words, and respect for the boy grew in her heart. Not only had he managed to stop the commotion, but he had also spoken the proper words to keep everyone in place; like a leader.

"Then what do you suggest we do?" someone asked, a boy that was bathed in blood from the previous fight. "Start a life here, create new identities, and bow to peace and love?"

The smuggest of the smile touched his face as he crossed his corpulent arms over his bloodied shirt.

"What about you bow to me first?" Minho barked.

"No, there's definitely got to be a way out," Alby, the boy who had joined Minho and Nick some minutes before, intervened.

Suddenly, someone gasped.

"There is!" He pointed a slim finger to one of the Walls. Indeed, there was an opening in its centre, a crevice. "We can get out!"

 _Too simple_ , a voice rang in her head. And it was right; it was way too easy. If they could get out just like that, what was the use in bringing them there in the first place? And what were those joists for then? She highly doubted their purpose was decorating the field. Nevertheless, she remained quiet as the short boy ran towards the opening in the wall, and some others followed him. Her gaze was glued on his back as she walked over to where Minho stood.

"I don't think that's a good id—"

Her voice was silenced by a loud sound, one almost guttural. Abruptly, the ground under her feet began to shake, reverberating through her body like jolts of electricity. With wide eyes, Riley turned towards Minho, who was just as stunned as she was. He glanced at her momentarily, before both their attentions were drawn by the huge walls in front of them. They were moving, sliding along the dirty ground and swiftly closing the space between them.

Her gaze remained fixed on the short boy, whose body was engulfed by the huge stones before he could even understand the situation. If the previous noise had been terrifying, the sound of his bones being crushed to pieces caused her blood to run cold. Silence fell upon them while the disturbing turn of events got recorded in their shocked minds. Her hands flew to her mouth in a successful attempt to silence her upcoming gasp of horror, and her eyes widened in utter terror. A hand clapped on her shoulder, causing her to turn towards Minho. The boy was probably as scared as she was, but he had surprisingly managed to hide his feelings behind a mask of determination.

"Alby, bring some sticks and start a fire," Nick spoke from some metres away, and the fact that he sounded so calm only managed to lit a furious fire in her chest.

The dark—skinned boy gave him a long, unimpressed stare, before he ran to the woods, taking some of the boys with him.

Soon enough, everyone was scattered around a warm fire, but the remembrance of the horrors they had been witnesses of some minutes ago kept tightening their minds. No one had dared to speak a word, not even to make their breath noticeable, fearing the smallest of the noises would attract more dangers to them. Heart clutched in a fist, Riley found herself staring into the hypnotizing flames as the bright fire swayed before her eyes, dancing in careless freedom. Her knees were pulled up, her hands intertwined before her. Even though she could feel the chilly breeze of the night on her back, the soothing warmth emerging from the bonfire on her face, and the iron flavour of blood on her mouth as her teeth bit on the inside of her cheek; her mind was in a far off world. The image of that boy running towards his death, the terrifying sound of his bones breaking under the crushing pressure of those huge slabs of stone as they engulfed his insignificant frame into an abysm of darkness, even the first fight that had taken place between the frightened teens and how their bloodied fists had clashed against the faces of the weakest ones; everything kept replaying itself in her head, slowly digging into her brain to create an everlasting hole where the horrors she had seen would be forever remembered.

A tap on her shoulder snapped her out of the trance she had been swimming in for long minutes, and she startled. Turning her head towards her left, she came face to face with Minho and gave him a questioning look.

"You okay?" At the 'are you serious?' stare he received, he gave a shrug and turned back to the bonfire. "Stupid question."

"Very," Riley granted, and the corner of her lips tugged slightly upwards when she caught a glimpse of his unimpressed expression from the corner of her eye. However, not wanting to go back to her trail of thoughts, or let the heavy silence fell upon her shoulders again, she added, "That was some crazy stuff."

Minho visibly winced, and his eyes glanced at her before fixing on the huge walls. "It was brutal."

As the girl stretched her sore legs and sat into a more comfortable position, she suddenly noticed the absence of some of the boys; the spots they had once filled broke the quiet circle, formed around the fire.

"Where are they?" she asked as she pointed to the vacant spots with her head.

"Over there." Minho signalled for her to look towards the metal box, and sure enough, the shapes of the missing people were standing there, close to one another in some kind of secret circle. "They are discussing serious matters," he explained.

Riley hummed in understanding, her eyes still focused on them as she tried to recognize all of them.

"And why aren't you with them?" She looked over at him, an eyebrow arched in expectance.

"Because they are discussing _serious_ matters," he replied in a _duh_ voice. Then, he added, "Besides, it's way hotter here."

An amused smirk stretched on her lips, and Minho immediately caught on the subtle meaning of his own words and deadpanned.

"I'm not hitting on you," he said. "I'm sorry to disappoint you, darling, but you are not my type."

"Don't worry, brother, I've already called dibs on her," someone joked, causing Riley to look up to meet Frypan. The boy winked playfully at her, which earned him an amused chuckle from her and a roll of eyes from Minho.

"What is that?" he suddenly asked, eyeing the two brown bowls Frypan was carrying.

Out of curiosity, Riley lifted her head to try to catch a glimpse of what lay in said items, before Frypan crouched in front of them and handed the bowls to them.

"Soup?"

"Yeah, a very delicious one," Frypan added, his voice giving away how proud he was of the strange-looking soup floating in the bowl. "Not to brag, but I think I was born to cook."

Never in his speech did he notice the stare of pure disgust drawn on both teens' faces, nor did Riley pause to pay him any attention. She kept staring at the perturbing _things_ that floated in that brown water.

"What are these," Minho was so repulsed he couldn't even form a proper question, and his words came out as a pained demand.

Whether he was unaware of their grimaces, or he just decided to ignore them, Frypan gave a careless shrug and replied, "I don't even know, but they were all in that box that brought us here. And, honestly, they taste good."

"Just try it, Minho."

The boy looked at Riley with a mixture of incredulity and betrayal, but she gave him an encouraging nod before taking a bit of the soup. The disgusted grimace that crept to her face went unnoticed, for Minho was already looking at the bowl in his hands and digging the spoon into the substance.

"Well, how is it?" Frypan asked, eager to hear all the praises he was sure he was about to receive.

Minho had paled considerably, and the light in his eyes had dimmed so much Riley thought he was about to drop dead. His lips were pressed together, his hand suspended in the air, and he seemed to have stopped breathing.

"I think he hasn't tasted it completely, yet," Riley commented, but then took pity on him. "Why don't you go give some more to Nick and the rest?" She pointed to the boys who were still gathered next to the box some feet away from them.

As soon as Frypan was gone, amused chuckles began to escape her mouth.

"You are an ass, and I hate you," Minho said, finally recovered from his shock. Much to his annoyance, his words only served to increase her amusement, and the chuckles soon developed into hysterical laughter. "Why did you do that?"

Calming down, Riley glanced at Frypan as he grabbed more bowls of lethal food and began to walk towards Nick and Alby.

"So that he'd go and wouldn't have to see this," she replied as she emptied the bowl on the grass behind them before placing the it next to her. "Did you not see his face? I won't be the cause of his turmoil when he finds out he sucks at cooking."

"How considerate," Minho commented sarcastically. "His taste buds must be disintegrated if he believes this is _delicious_."

"If that's his problem, then he is a lucky one," Rileymuttered just before the first boy puked at his feet.

" _If_ this fucking place doesn't kill us, he surely will."

-#-

In the meantime, within the four walls that formed the installations of WICKED, an authoritative voice echoed, breaking the comfortable atmosphere surrounding the place, where the rest of the teens –the ones who hadn't been sent to Glades– were calmly chatting.

"Subject A-5," the man called as soon as his presence was noticed.

A deafening silence followed his words, and every head turned towards the boy who sat at one of the many tables scattered around. His brown eyes looked up and slowly drifted towards the figure of Dr. Janson, whom he had come to loathe over the days.

"I guess they've found Riley's replacement, at last," the soft voice of Sonya, who was sitting on his right, reached his ears as he eventually rose from his seat and began walking towards the man.

 _I guess so_ , was all the boy thought as the doors closed behind him and he found himself standing before a blonde woman.

Dr. Janson approached the Chancellor, momentarily leaving the boy on his own to exchange a few words with the powerful woman.

"Chancellor Paige, I believe we can start with the procedure," he spoke, his voice as emotionless as usual.

Ava Paige let her lips form a grim smile, before she motioned for Dr. Norman to take the boy to the vacant bed standing at the end of the white room. She dismissed Dr. Janson with a wave of her hand and was about to turn around and follow Dr. Norman, when the man spoke again.

"Excuse my curiosity, but wouldn't it be best if we just sent subject A-5 to the Maze? He was, after all, supposed to be in the first group."

But the woman shook her head.

"That would disconcert them, and I am certain that they have enough _issues_ to deal with for the moment being."

From his spot lying on a bed, Newt could only wonder about the point of everything WICKED was making them go through.


	4. Nick

Okay, I know it's been so long. But I haven't been able to touch this for months, as I've recently finished my last term of college. I also know this is probably shorter than any of my chapters, but I didn't find it in myself to keep adding words; I would just slow the pace of the story and what not. Anyway, I hope you enjoy reading this piece!

 **IMPORTANT:** For certain reasons, I've decided to change the name of the main character. This means, Riley is the former Rachel. I really hope this doesn't make things confusing for you.

* * *

CHAPTER FOUR:

Nick

* * *

Left.

 _Nothing_.

Right.

 _Nothing in sight either._

A relieved sigh escaped her lips as Riley crouched down.

"Nice butt!"

An annoyed growl echoed in the woods as the girl quickly jumped to her feet for the third time in a row.

"Someone'd better make a bloody bathroom before I decide to pee on your face, Minho!"

Day after day, the teens tried to adapt to the potential idea of having to spend the rest of their lives inside those walls, and so, slowly yet constantly, they carried on with the purpose of making their days less miserable. It proved to be a difficult task, for fear always plagued their hearts –especially those of the youngest ones. However, they managed.

And, of course, the first thing they worked on was a _bloody bathroom,_ requested by Minho himself after having finally gotten his sneaky ass kicked by the only girl in the Glade _._

-#-

Submerged in the deepest of darkness, she only woke up when agitated footsteps clacked furiously from somewhere below her. Almost automatically, her legs threw the scratchy blankets off, and she sat up on the uncomfortable bed. While a yawn escaped her mouth, her green eyes glimpsed at the wooden wall before her, and the familiar sensation of frustration filled her. The wood made complaining noises as she pushed herself off of the bed and walked over. Stifling a resigned sigh, she swiftly glanced at the scratches on the wall before pulling out the sharp blade she always kept within reach and running the edge over the brown surface.

"How many?"

Startled by the unexpected presence, Riley quickly turned towards the now-open door and threw the blade at them. A deaf sound echoed as the item crossed the air and drilled into the wall behind.

"You're getting better," Nick mused, his gaze locked on the shiny blade, before he griped the hilt and pulled it out.

No apology was heard as the girl narrowed her eyes at him, evidently annoyed. Snorting, she merely gave a bitter, "Being in this place makes you rethink your goals in life."

Nick hummed, as though he were considering her words, but didn't move from his spot by the door. He seemed to be lost in thought as he observed the scratched wall, before he looked at her.

"And what's your goal?"

"Surviving."

Silence fell upon them after Nick murmured, "Figured as much" or something along the lines. Deciding to change the topic, he pointed with the blade to the wall she was standing in front of and repeated, "So, how many?"

Riley turned her head towards it and frowned.

"Thirty."

His eyes narrowed ever so slightly, almost as though he were glaring at the amount of scratches.

"It seems we've been here for much longer, though," he commented, to which Riley sighed heavily.

"And yet, for some reason, I have the feeling it isn't even close to –"

"Nick," a voice interrupted her, causing her to furrow her eyebrows in annoyance as the two teens turned towards its owner. Frypan looked briefly at Riley, and then waved the older boy over.

Riley could only huff in irritation as they walked out, leaving her behind without much of a glance.

-#-

Dark brown eyes stared at the disgusting-looking food before him. A pained grimace decorated his face as Minho stepped forward and took one of the bowls from the long table. One would say, after a whole month of being there, he would have grown accustomed to Frypan's lack of talent when it came to cooking. However, he doubted something like that would ever happen; that _food_ was just something his palate didn't allow him to get used to.

It was shocking, honestly, that Frypan was still in charge of the Kitchens; especially after it became clear that no one was _too_ fond of his meals. However, at the same time, it wasn't all that stunning; they were, after all, a bunch of lazy-ass teens.

"You know, the less you think about it, the less you'll suffer," the familiar light voice of Riley snapped him out of his trail of thoughts, and he gave her a long look before scoffing.

"No work today?" he asked, surprised by the fact she was outside.

Riley shook her head no and glanced around momentarily, as to make sure no one needed her.

"Not yet, at least," she drawled.

"You make it sound like you'd rather have to work, which is disturbing as hell," Minho pointed out.

And it was true; she was the medic of the Glade, so preferring to have something to do was but startling.

 _Med-jack_ , as Nick liked to refer to her job as. Truth be told, Nick had been the first to show his burning hatred towards the ones who had put them there; not directly, though. The first days, he would remain quiet, almost in solitude, but always watching over them; he immediately introduced himself as someone who liked to be in charge, someone who didn't waver to help those in need, but at the same time, someone who didn't enjoy the company of many. His face would remain almost stoical throughout the day; never did the tiniest of the smile cross it. Nevertheless, whenever questions concerning the strange events in their short-remembered lives, his brown eyes would harden to the point it seemed he was about to set someone on fire by one quick glance. His hands would tighten into clenched fists, and his lips would purse into the deepest of the scowls.

Around the beginning of the second week, he started creating new words so as to use them as a way to difference the Gladers from the people responsible of their miserable lives. In all honesty, no one found in within themselves to argue with him, and so, they complied. It wasn't a hard task to accomplish; it just took time for them to get used to the strange names.

The true issue came with his decision to change the way they cursed. It was, in Riley's opinion, a selfish idea. Riley didn't think that stopping cursing would make that great of a difference. Instead, she thought Nick had grown tired of them –Minho and she herself, to be exact– blaspheming non-stop. That proved to be one of the hardest tasks ever; but they tried, at least. Still, whenever a curse slipped from her mouth, Nick would wince like a five-year-old who had just been scolded for stealing chocolate.

"We're running out of food," she suddenly realized, but Minho merely waved a hand in the air.

"Would it be that bad if something like that happened, I wonder?" Riley rolled her eyes at him. "But don't worry. Looks like the Box came up again, carrying some more supplies so that we won't die out of starvation, but of a fuc– _shucking_ stomach ache."

"Seriously, do you ever hear yourself?" Riley let out an exasperated sigh, yet chuckled quietly afterwards.

He glared at her for a brief moment, before his attention was grabbed by something else.

"And who the hell is that?"

Frowning, Riley turned around on her seat. Immediately, she understood Minho's confusion; there, getting out of the Box with the help of Frypan and Nick, was an unknown boy. He was tan, thin and short; and Riley could feel the questions starting to roam her insides.

"Finish that," she ordered while pointing at the still-untouched bowl, which earned her yet another unamused stare. "I'll catch you later."

And, with that, she was off.

 _She likes to boss around way too much_.

-#-

Judging eyes fell upon him the moment he was helped out of the Box, and both Frypan and Nick exchanged knowing glances before turning towards him again.

"So, Jeff," Nick began, his arms already crossed over his chest in what seemed to be his usual pose, "is there anything else you want to tell us, aside from your name?"

Jeff, the new addition to the group, meekly shook his head.

"I really don't remember anything other than that," he confessed, ashamed. "Do you think it's possible I hit my head or something?"

Nick sighed.

"Don't think so, mate," Frypan replied truthfully. "Unless we all did."

"What do you mean?" Jeff asked, frowning in confusion.

"We lost our memories, too." Nick ran a hand through his messy hair before motioning for Alby –who was lurking around in case he was needed– to take the newbie to the Homestead.

Just then, Riley came running. She looked at Jeff with scrutinizing eyes, but didn't acknowledge him as she turned towards Nick, an eyebrow arched in expectation.

"What is going on?"

Without a warning, the boy took her by the elbow and led her away from the rest of curious teens who had –unsurprisingly– followed her steps.

"The Box came up again; as I'm sure you are already aware of." His voice gave away the exasperation he felt. "That boy –Jeff is his name, by the way–, was inside. Same as usual; no memories at all about his life, just his name. There was a piece of paper inside, too."

When he paused, Riley placed her hands on her hips; something she always did whenever she lost her patience –which wasn't really that unusual.

"Well?" she pressed.

Instead of receiving the answer she was expecting, Nick slipped his hand inside the pocket of his trousers and pulled out the note he was talking about. Suddenly feeling unsure, the girl hesitantly took the paper into her rather smaller hand and read silently.

 _He's the first; others will come, one at a time every thirty days._

 _Find a way out._

 _No cheating._

Riley frowned.

"They want us to find a way out?" she asked out-loud, then pursed her lips in thought. "I don't think someone will be eager to step into the Maze."

"No kidding," Nick agreed, and then began to walk back to the Box. "Which is why I won't give them that satisfaction."

After slipping the note into her own pocket, Riley rushed to catch up with the boy.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Again, she received no answer. And Riley could only hope he didn't do anything stupid.

-#-

Some minutes later, Riley found herself in front of the Box; or, to be exact, where the Box was supposed to be. Some of the Gladers had helped Nick to take it out of the huge hole formed in the earth, and now, they were all surrounding it.

 _This is definitely stupid._

Riley took a hesitant step forward in order to get a closer look at what awaited inside the hole. Darkness; an impenetrable cave of shadows that screamed danger. A shiver rolled down her spine, and she was suddenly pushed back by a strong arm.

"You'll fall, slinthead."

In normal circumstances, the girl would have snarled at Nick; but not this time. She was worried; she realized. Watching as the boy tied a thick rope around his torso, she bit her lip out of concern. She was having a _really_ bad feeling about the whole situation.

"Nick," she called quietly, effectively catching said boy's attention. "I'm pretty sure this is the meaning of _cheating_."

As expected, Nick gave her a hard look.

"So what? Are we supposed to do whatever they tell us to do?" he growled lowly, but then, his eyes softened. "Besides, if I don't do this, someone else will."

"Are you really willing to risk your life for the sake of everyone else?" She crossed her arms over her chest, shook her head and refused to look at him. "This is the worst idea you've ever had, and that's saying a lot."

To be honest, the possibility of losing yet another friend was always in her mind, gnawing at it constantly. Due to the circumstances, the fact was more than likely to happen; sooner or later. However, she wasn't ready to face that reality yet; she refused to lose Nick. While their relationship was still rocky –as they had very different points of view about things–, Nick was one of the boys she could always count on; his presence in the Glade eased her worries. And, she was certain, she wasn't the only one that felt that way about him.

"Riley." His hand lay upon her shoulder, and she eventually turned towards him. "Don't worry. I'll be fine."

But she saw straight through his words. And there, behind his determined façade, wasn't a resolute teen; there, she briefly caught a glimpse of a scared boy. Although he was older than most of them, Nick was still young, and his heart held as many fears as theirs did.

He gave her shoulder a squeeze in an attempt to comfort her –and look for it too–, before he turned his back on her and nodded to Alby. Said boy didn't look as unsure as Riley did, and therefore, it didn't take him long to start leading Nick down the abysm.

With the help of Frypan and Minho, they gripped tightly the strong rope as Nick began to descend. A tense silence permeated the Glade as they all watched the boy slowly disappear in the darkness inside the hole.

And suddenly, a metallic sound broke the expectant quietness. Automatically, Riley took a step forward…

…just in time to see his body being cut in half.

His brown, shocked eyes locked on her for a second, and a whirlwind of emotions shone in them for her to see: astonishment, fright, and finally, realization. His mouth opened, but no words came out. A single tear fell from his eye before those orbs became dull, and the last bit of life abandoned his body.

* * *

 _Don't forget to review! Feedback is always appreciated._


	5. Alby's New Role

CHAPTER FIVE:

Alby's new role

It was a gloomy day, even as the sun shone up in that seemingly-artificial sky. A quiet murmur surrounded the Glade, coming from the casual whisperings shared between the boys as they came up with yet another issue regarding their _jobs_. It was unnerving, to be quite honest. But ever since Nick's brutal death, nothing had been the same. Of course, the atmosphere had never been blissful, nor had the Gladers ever felt at ease. Yet recent events had put their hair on end, and so fright now filled their already wary hearts.

A heavy sigh slipped between her lips as Riley stared down at the new tomb placed in front of her. As the days had gone by and the deaths increased in number, they had decided to build some kind of cemetery in which the dead could rest in peace. It was located in the middle of the woods, and so a feeling of serenity always remained within it. The graves were scattered around making no much sense, and the only thing that made their existence obvious was the crooked sticks sunk in the grassy ground. With a spike, and in wooden planks, the names of those who lay underneath had been written so as to avoid to be stepped on by careless Gladers. Even so, irregular footprints could be seen here and there, and some of them had created small holes where broken bones had once been hidden.

Riley pursed her lips into a frown; she was still at a loss of words. So many days had she been visiting Nick's grave, and yet she once again found herself unable to form a simple sentence. His dead eyes still followed her wherever she went, like a reminder of what she could- _should_ have prevented.

"Riley."

Startled by the sudden call, the girl spun around and swung her fist towards Alby. He must have been expecting that kind of reaction, for he took a step away just as his face was about to be smashed.

"Bloody hell, Alby," she muttered lowly and glared at the stoical boy, who merely crossed his tanned arms over his chest. "Were you trying to give me a heart attack?"

But she was greeted with yet another blank stare, and unable to hide her annoyance, she rolled her eyes and placed her hands on her hips.

"If you've come all this way just to stand there like a creepy doll, be my guest." She turned left and started making her way out of the surprisingly intimidating woods, a frown plastered on her face. "I was leaving, anyway."

Alby looked down at the new tomb momentarily.

"Wait."

Her sarcastic snort reached his ears as she kept on, not stopping walking and not turning towards him.

"Not a bloody chance, Alby boy. Whatever that you need to tell me can wait until I'm outta here. Otherwise, you'd have already told me." She made a valid point, and both of them were certain of it. As the heavy footsteps of Alby followed her, she smirked slightly. "If glaring at my back is your intimidating tactic, I suggest you stop; it's not working."

Ever since Nick's tragic death, Alby had been named as his _successor_. To be honest, Riley did not care about trivial things like that, and if asked, she would admit that the boy wasn't as bad as expected at running the show. However, the redhead did find that high-and-mighty attitude of his rather unnerving. Some would say she exaggerated, to which she'd huff in mock, as the both of them had argued enough times to grow quite impatient towards one another.

 _He likes to think of himself as the boss of all us; never consulting ideas, never taking anyone in consideration._

"Alright, spit it out," she said once they left the Deadheads – also a name decided by Alby himself.

The boy narrowed his eyes briefly, if only to show her just how much her demeanour irked him. Then again, she always seemed to use his annoyance to her own entertainment.

"The Box's back, with another boy inside," he revealed.

Riley hummed in thought.

"It's been already thirty days." Her eyes had a distant look as she looked over to a short boy that was working at the Gardens nearby, before she snapped out of it and faced Alby. "Is that all?"

And by that, she meant: _You came to disturb me because of a bloody newbie?_

"Actually -" She crossed her arms, expectant. "- you're needed in the Homestead. Malcolm broke his ankle or something like that. He won't stop whining about it."

At his words, she arched a brow.

"Isn't he like… twelve?"

 _Right, because a broken ankle is nothing to whine about_ , she thought sarcastically.

But Alby didn't look bothered in the least and merely gave her a blank look, "Yeah, so?"

"I can't even –" she stopped herself from starting yet another argument, because there was just no point. Instead, she sighed in resignation. "Whatever. I'll just go."

Alby nodded, evidently pleased with her submission, and patted her shoulder as he walked by to head who knew where.

"Good that."

But Riley paid him no mind, as she wasn't in the mood to deal with Alby at that moment. She straightened her back, heard it crack softly, and headed the Homestead. On the way, she encountered many Gladers, who were working hard yet quietly, and the girl suddenly found herself missing Minho's lively nature. Obviously, he was nowhere to be seen, and wouldn't be until later that day.

A small smile touched her lips at the remembrance of her friend's sudden determination right after Nick's burial. For the time she'd known him, Riley had never expected him to give such a speech on how they must– _needed_ to work together to find a way to escape that bloody hole. It had surprised her greatly, but her admiration towards the boy had increased just as much.

 _Runners_.

That's how they called them – those who risked their lives out in the Maze, looking for the way out – for the sake of everyone else. Not many had dared at first, but Minho had managed to convince more than she would've ever expected. Nevertheless…

They soon realized the Maze's intricate passages (which changed every night, by the way) weren't the only danger lying ahead once one left the safety the Glade provided.

Something lurked inside, something seemingly fallen from another planet. No one had actually given enough information about it, as no one had encountered it and made it back to the Glade. But it was there; the amount of mutilated corpses made it evident.

Riley muttered an apology as she bumped into someone just when she was about to walk into the Homestead, then strolled towards the humble infirmary they had put up and closed the door behind once she was inside.

-#-

A pair of eyes turned towards her the minute Riley stepped into the room. Jeff, the no-longer Greenie, seemed evidently relieved by her appearance and quickly jogged over. His brows were furrowed considerably though, and he looked to be in distraught.

"Thank God you're here, Riley," he puffed out, then took a deep breath and motioned for her to approach one of the occupied beds.

"Is he knocked out?" the girl asked, incredulous, at the sight of Malcolm's unconscious body.

"He was in a lot of pain," Jeff explained while glancing briefly at him, before rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. "So I gave him some pills and hoped for them to calm him a little."

Riley hummed in understanding.

"Glad we have those pills. I felt bloody uncomfortable when we didn't."

"Why? How did you deal with this kind of situation before?" Jeff questioned.

A grim, guilty look took upon her features as she winced visibly, as though the remembrance caused her discomfort.

"You never asked about the wooden bat we used to keep in here, eh?"

And the conversation was over just like that.

Some hours later, Riley was finally done bandaging and securing Malcolm's ankle. Fortunately, it wasn't broken as they had thought at first, but only sprained. Purple marks rounded it, but she had taken good care of them too and knew they would disappear within the following days. During the process, the injured boy had woken up, which had forced her to silence his whines with yet another couple of pills. At the moment, he was sleeping soundly, mouth agape.

"All done," she sighed, exhausted. "Great job, Jeff." She turned towards said boy, only to find him lying sprawled on another bed. An unpleased expression formed on her face, before she slowly approached him. "What the bloody hell do you think you're doing, slinthead?"

He didn't even open his eyes.

"Resting."

Her brow arched at his unexpected boldness.

"Oh, okay." Her green eyes narrowed then, and she placed both hands on her hips. "Do you want me to give you a _real_ reason to rest?"

Before Jeff could anticipate the attack, he was groaning on the hard floor.

"No slackers."

-#-

The sun was setting, the night slowly coming forth. Every Glader was outside the Homestead, sitting on benches they'd built themselves and trying to enjoy the only minutes of peace they were allowed to have. The usual murmur had turned into almost animated chatter with the arrival of the runners; no one had died today. It was, by far, an accomplishment. And thus, small smiles could be seen on the dirty faces of some of them as they dug into Frypan's meal.

At some point, Minho stood from his seat next to the only girl in the Glade, bumped her shoulder with his hip playfully and let out a laugh as she consequently fell backwards and landed on her butt. The angry reaction of Riley was scandalous enough for the whole Glade to hear, and soon more laughs had joined Minho's.

"Minho!"

The boy turned towards the voice and found Alby standing with the Greenie at some distance from the commotion.

"Seems like you're having a good time," Alby commented once he had walked over.

"Duh." Minho rolled his eyes, then glanced at the new boy. It was dark – the only light came from the bonfire that stood at some meters away – so he couldn't make out his features, but his blond hair was ruffled and curious eyes observed the scene before them. The runner turned his attention back to Alby. "I trust the tour went well?"

Alby crossed his arms over his tone chest.

"Yeah, everything's settled."

"Good that." He waited for the teen to say something else, but ended up rolling his eyes when silenced prevailed for another minute. "What do you want, Alby? I was enjoying a shucking great meal 'till you called, so please, feel free to explain your reason whenever."

He earned himself a glare.

"The Greenie's in your hands now."

Minho seemed unimpressed as he asked why, but there was nothing he could do as Alby walked past and sat down next to Zart.

"That shucking shuck-face," he mumbled under his breath, clicked his tongue in annoyance and gave the Greenie a blank stare. "Fine. Whatever that's floating your mind, I don't give a klunk. I definitely ain't feeling like babysittin' you, so I'm just gonna introduce you to those shanks over there –" he pointed towards the Gladers, "– and you just –"

"Who is that?"

A vein could have plopped on his forehead at the newbie's interruption – the annoying slinthead hadn't listened to a word he had said. But, pushing his irritation away, Minho followed his gaze and snorted in amusement.

 _Of course it'd be Riley_. Apparently, she was arguing with Frypan, a disgusted expression on her face as she pointed at the food. _She just doesn't get tired of complaining_.

"Out of your league, buddie." He shook his head. "The question is, since you're the newbie here: who are you?"

The boy had the guts to send him a smirk of smugness.

"Out of yours," he retorted.

And just like that, Minho's behaviour changed; the corner of his lips turned upwards into a pleased grin, and he laughed.

"Good one, Greenie," he appraised and stuck a hand towards him. "Name's Minho."

Returning his grin, the blond shook his hand and said, "Newt."


	6. Depression

**I have really no excuse as to why I haven't updated this story, so for those who still read this: I apologize for taking so unbelievably long and hope you enjoy this chapter.**

* * *

CHAPTER SIX:

 _Depression_

Her eyes were glazed and fixed out of the window, as though her soul had abandoned her body. She was sitting by one of the vacant beds, her chin rested against her hand as she breathed evenly. She was absorbed by her thoughts; not even the sound of pencil scratching paper bothered her.

Not for the first time ever since she woke up in that damned Box, Riley wondered about the world outside. Having no memories whatsoever, it was a hard task to imagine what could be waiting once the maze was left behind; she felt like she had been born in that bloody place.

She glanced up towards that dull sky; she had grown to see it so much through the last days, to the point she was starting to loathe it. She wondered if the sky looked the same in the outside world, or if it was as dead as that sun, whose light did everything but spread warmth. A sigh escaped her lips. She was almost ready to give up seeking for a life out of that prison; there was no point, anyway. The more they tried escaping, the more desperate they became. She was just so tired of waking up to such despairing situation, so done watching her friends –the only ones who made that hole a whole less suffering– die.

Sometimes, she found herself envying those who had left. Of course, their deaths had been gruesome; but they weren't bearing with the pain anymore. With each death, Riley had felt the hole in her heart become wider and more difficult to endure.

What was the point in living?

She didn't know anymore; she felt so hopeless, so alone.

She had no strength to fight, nor did she want to. Yet there she was, unable to seek the peace she so anxiously wished for; and it was all because of them. The Gladers. They were her strength, her reason of living; she couldn't leave them, because they needed her as much as she did them.

"How's he?"

Riley stood from the chair and walked over to the hurt boy of whom she'd been taking care for the past week. She avoided his inquisitive look and proceeded to scan the no-longer wounded foot, then turned to Jeff.

"He's good to go, so long as he doesn't strain himself," she announced, to which the boy nodded. Her gaze then fell upon the childish face of Malcolm, who had been drawing the entire time. "Malcolm, you can leave now."

He looked up, placed his sketchbook on his lap and pouted.

"Do I have to?"

Jeff chuckled while Riley startled.

"No way," he said as he helped the boy up on his feet. Malcolm whimpered the moment his sensitive foot touched the ground, but then began walking towards the door with the help of the med-jack. "See you later, Riley."

The two walked out, but not before Jeff turned back towards the girl and mouthed, "He has a _huge_ crush on you."

Riley rolled her eyes and laughed quietly, and soon after, she was left alone in the silent room.

-#-

At dinner time, Minho sat down next to her as she reluctantly ate. The boy gave her a thoughtful glance when she didn't say anything, partly shocked by her odd behaviour.

"I won't ask what's going on in that sucking head of yours," he said with a sigh. "It's not that difficult to figure out why you've been ignoring everyone today. Has happened to me, too."

Riley paused and looked at him.

"Thank you. It's just…" – she pursed her lips – "hard."

Minho nodded.

"And it'll be harder if you seclude yourself, shank."

No more words were exchanged during the following minutes, and both Gladers merely had dinner in a comfortable silence. From time to time, Riley would glance around; almost as though she was expecting something to happen. During the past days –ever since she woke up there–, she had experienced so many different situations –of which all of them had ended in yet more despair– that she had become alert to the slightest of commotions.

"Riley, relax."

Someone slapped her on the back lightly, causing her to choke in her food and start coughing.

"Don't do that, you bloody slinthead," she hissed, voice hoarse, to Frypan. But he merely laughed and went back to handing out the _meal_ he had –once again– _poisoned_.

"Damn that boy."

Minho let out a laugh, ignoring her glare afterwards.

"But he's right," he pointed out. "I wouldn't like to get hurt with you so tense; I'd probably rather treating my wounds myself."

He received a punch on the shoulder in return, but shrugged her annoyance off and said, "By the way, I met Newt on the way here. Not only you have yet to introduce yourself to him, but you've been sucking ignoring the poor Greenie!"

Riley placed a hand under her chin, a posture that gave away her opinion on the matter; she could care less.

"So what? I've been busy."

"Bullsh–"

"Klunk," she corrected.

He rolled his eyes and muttered, "Whatever. Just tell me why you're avoiding the boy."

"I am not." Upon the look he sent her, she let out a defeated sigh. "It's better that way. The less people I befriend, the less hard it'll be when they die."

Everyone stopped their tasks when Minho punched the girl in the face, sending her to crash on the dirty ground with a _thud_. She was so shocked that she could only stare wide-eyed into his angry glare as he took her by the front of her shirt and started yelling in her face.

"Out of all the people, I'd never thought you to be so self-absorbed! Do you think you're the only one suffering here, that Nick's death meant klunk to us? In this sucking place, the only way that can help us endure the pain is to support each other," he growled. "What right do you have that we don't? Cut the crap already, Riley; no one believes your pathetic excuses."

Silence followed his words, and the girl could only avoid his heated gaze as she pried his fingers off of her shirt. "Tell me, Minho," – her eyes were cold, yet filled with hurt, when she looked up at him – "Was it really necessary to humiliate me like this?"

The boy took a quick glance around, only to notice everyone staring at the two of them in utter astonishment.

 _Damn_.

He expected to be hit back, so when Riley turned around and walked away without uttering a single word, he bit back another curse.

"Actually, I think it was quite necessary."

Minho sent him a hateful glare and hissed, "Shuck it, Alby."

-#-

The next day, Riley woke up with a heavy headache and a purple cheek. Minho's words still hurt, and no matter how much she had tried to silence them, they wouldn't stop from repeating themselves like a broken record. Upon reaching the infirmary, an unexpected sight was waiting for her.

"You're in charge of the Greenie today," Alby stated, his face serious. "Don't start another commotion."

Clicking her tongue in annoyance, she flicked him off when his back was towards her. Laughter reached her ears, and she turned to face the newbie, who immediately shut up. She observed him for some seconds, as though pondering whether or not telling him off, then sighed in resignation.

"Name's Riley," she said.

Newt stared at her hand in shock, but took it and introduced himself with a smile of triumph.

"Don't look so smug yet, Greenie." Her lips tugged into a mischievous smirk. "Let's see if you're made for this job."

He was definitely _not_.

And it didn't take her long to come to that conclusion. She should have sent him away, considering he was making a fool of himself, but she was actually having such a fun time watching him struggle.

"Jeff tried warning me," Newt said suddenly, taking her aback.

"About?"

He glared at her from the corner of his eye.

"You're a sadist."

He yelped when he accidentally stuck the needle in his finger, and Riley just couldn't take it anymore. Her giggles turned into a care-free laughter that left Newt speechless, staring in amazement at her. But then he was reminded of the reason she was laughing so much, and a glare was sent her way.

"You should know," – he bandaged his finger (the only thing he seemed to do without trouble) – "I hate you so much right now."  
Riley patted his back.

"Don't worry, you'll get over it."

"And why am I practicing with a piece of cow?" He grimaced when blood started pouring out again.

"Because there's no way I'm letting you do _that_ " – she pointed to his useless attempt of bandaging the wound – "to a living being."

After long minutes of endless patience towards the dead thing, Newt gave up. He glanced at Riley, who wasn't paying attention to him anymore and was instead staring out the window.

"About yesterday–"

"Don't," she cut, her glaring eyes on him. "Let me make something clear. Just because we _may_ get along doesn't give you the right to stick your nose in my business. So do me a bloody favour and just focus on yourself." Something caught her eye, and she jumped to her feet. "I have to go. Don't leave this room."

And just like that, Newt was left alone.

-#-

"Riley!" someone called for her as she was running towards the place where the builders were reunited.

She stopped hastily, turned around and couldn't help but smile at the sight of the cheerful boy.

"Malcolm, you shouldn't be running," she reprimanded lightly. "You don't want your foot to hurt again, do you?"

The kid shook his head, then grinned.

"I want to give something to you," he said as he quickly rummaged through his bag.

A troubled grimace crept to her face, and she cursed mentally before saying, "I'm sorry, Malcolm, but there's something very important I have to do. Can it wait until I come back?"

Malcolm halted his movements and looked at her with big, disappointed eyes.

"Oh, yes."

After ruffling his hair in an affective gesture, Riley resumed her race towards the builders. They were surrounded by wooden planks and spikes, and the yells of their Keeper could be heard within the whole Glade. Annoyed, the girl approached him.

"Gally, just why the bloody hell are you shouting for?"

The big boy turned towards her; his eyes blazed in fury. He stomped over to her, and the builders took the opportunity to skip away from his menacing presence.

"And why would I need to explain anything to you?" he spat, earning himself a glare from Riley.

"Because as hard as it is for that thick head of yours to understand, you're not the owner of this place," she replied. "You're a Keeper, but you don't rule over those shanks."

His eyebrows furrowed, and he finally snapped. He pushed her with as much force as he could muster, causing the girl to collide against something that, oddly enough, crumbled under her weight. Yet she didn't fell, only grew infuriated.

"You don't want to start a fight with me, Gally."

However, the boy wasn't looking at her anymore; his eyes were fixed behind her, wide and unmoving. Riley turned around and glanced down.

Blood poured out of his chest, where a huge spike perforated his small body. His eyes were already dull, void of life as they stared up. And by his feet, there was a piece of paper in which her face had been drawn.

Seven words glared up at her.

 _Thank you for taking care of me._

She screamed.


	7. Epilogue

**This is the end, my friends. I know I promised there would be a sequel to Bloody Amnesia, but I'm writing an original book at this very moment so I don't really know. I won't say I'll give up on these series, because I love them too much (especially my characters, I feel so close to them after having been spending so many hours writing about them) to do so. Who knows, perhaps I'll find myself continuing them in the future.**

 **Until then, I want to thank all of you who've been there - supporting me, my stories with a loyalty I probably do not deserve. All the work and passion is because of you, so so I'm forever grateful.**

* * *

CHAPTER SEVEN/EPILOGUE

For some reason, the sky was duller that day; the sun still shone up in it, yet its light was dim –as if worn out. Whether the Gladers noticed or not, they didn't point it out. Perhaps, she was paying too much attention. Or maybe, she saw her feelings reflected in that grey colour –so gloomy, so tarnished.

Her gaze drifted towards the Deadheads, towards that bloody forest towards which she was growing so hateful. She could picture herself walking down its undefined paths, numb feet dragging her across the cold meadow. And there, next to Nick's destroyed tomb –someone had already stepped over it on accident–, Malcolm was lying; his lifeless body, broken by a spike, waited for time to work on it. It would slowly decompose, until –as it happened to all of them– becoming one with nature.

As the image of the mutilated boy crossed her mind, Riley closed her eyes tightly and turned away from the window. She had dismissed him so carelessly, hadn't expected him to follow her like a lost puppy. If only she had listened to whatever story he wanted to tell her, if only she had given him two more seconds to show her what he was hiding in his bag… But she had been selfish; at that moment, Gally's commotion had seemed more important to her. Now that she thought about it, she wondered why on Earth she had decided to step into such mess instead of leaving it to someone who would be able to actually deal with the troublesome Glader.

Riley shook her head. It was no use now, Malcolm was already gone and dwelling in the past wouldn't bring him back; the world was that unfair. The Glade was radical; it didn't leave room for mistakes, for second chances.

A knock on the door woke her up from her dark thoughts, and she looked over just in time to see Minho peek his head in. Upon catching sight of the girl, he sighed heavily and stepped into the room. Still remembering their fight from the day before, he would have never approached her had circumstances been any different; he was too stubborn and prideful at times.

However, he had been informed of the previous events –he was in the Maze when it happened, so Alby had been the one to fill him in as soon as he had reached the Glade. And fight aside, he had rushed over to his best friend the second Malcolm's death had been revealed. He knew how fond Rei was of him; the kid had glued to her ever since she had treated his ankle, and it was only natural that she had developed some sympathy towards him.

"Are you okay?"

Stupid question, she would have said. But instead, she shook her head and let the boy embrace her.

"I'm so tired of this," she mumbled, then sighed and stepped away. Upon reaching one of the beds, she sat down and ran a hand down her face. "Everyone keeps dying, no matter what we do. Are we actually accomplishing anything?"

"I don't know," Minho replied truthfully as he sat in front of her with a troubled expression. "But it keeps us occupied, so I guess it's better than staying still. Just imagine it, everything would be shucking chaotic if we didn't do anything. We still need to find the way out, but if there's no exit whatsoever; at least, we are moving."

Riley remained silent for some seconds, then chuckled quietly.

"You say some deep klunk sometimes, Minho."

She was awarded with a punch on the shoulder, causing her eyes to narrow in a glare. Nonetheless, her lips twitched into a small smile; she was glad she had her friend back.

-#-

At dinner's time, Riley thanked Frypan as he tossed her a piece of bread and sat down next to Minho. They had just come out of a gathering concerning the Greenie's assigned job, and Alby had also demanded the making of unbreakable rules so that the incident with Malcolm would never happen again. In all honesty, it was the first time the girl had agreed with something ordered by the Keeper; she was so used to his useless chattering, she had almost fallen over upon hearing such good ideas –Alby almost kicked her out afterwards.

Regarding Newt's job, she was having contradictory thoughts.

"I don't know whether to congratulate you," she began as she eyed the boy across the table, "or pray for you."

Newt feigned a hurt expression and placed a hand over his chest.

"That wounds my feelings, love."

"No flirting when I'm eating," Minho interrupted, causing the boy to glare at him. "I'm serious, slinthead. I will puke all over you."

Riley snorted in amusement and rolled her eyes, then took a bite of whatever it was that Frypan had cooked while pinching her nose in order to shake off the repulsive taste.

"Is he ready, though?" she asked the runner after grimacing. "The Maze is no place for weaklings."

Newt waved a hand nonchalantly.

"That's why you can't go in, right?"

He received a kick in the shin as response, then Riley proceeded to slap Minho in the back of his head to stop his snickering. A yelp escaped Newt's mouth, but he quickly recovered and started laughing as the runner's face was consequently smashed in his food.

"They will never grow up," Alby muttered some feet away from the commotion.

Frypan rolled his eyes.

"Slim it already, old man."

Suddenly, a blood curdling scream echoed in the Glade. Everyone halted their actions; wide eyes, clenched hearts. Her hair stood on end as she processed the voice who kept calling for help from one of the still-opened Walls. Last time he had been seen, he was spluttering incoherent words as they stared in utter shock at Malcolm's dead body. After his short burial, the big boy had disappeared; and she hadn't given a shit about his whereabouts.

Nevertheless, as he called for them once again, something inside her snapped and she jumped into action. Followed by Alby, Newt and some other Gladers while Minho tried to keep the young ones away from the most-likely terrifying scene; Riley ran towards the Walls.

There, Gally was stumbling over his own feet. He swayed from left to right, only to end up dropping like dead weight on the ground. When she caught up with him, his eyes were closed –fluttering rapidly behind its eyelids–, and sweat had formed on his forehead. Under the dim lights, she could catch a glimpse of his paler features and pained expression; something was happening to the strong boy, and it scared her because she had no idea what could be causing his distress.

"Alby, we need to get him to the infirmary," she stated nonetheless; she would worry about it when they had gotten him into a bed.

 _It's going to be a long night_ , she thought in apprehension.

"You have heard her, shanks," shouted Alby, much to her surprise. "Take him to the Homestead!"

He caught her stunned gaze then, but merely sent her a short nod of understanding and followed the Gladers as they carried the unconscious boy. Her lips curled into a satisfied smile; words were not needed for her to know –even though they despised each other's guts– there was a mutual respect between the both of them. So long as she accepted his role in the Glade, he wouldn't refute her words when it came to her _department_.

-#-

Gally woke up in a cold sweat, gasping for air. Frantically, he glanced around and let out a shaky breath when he realized he was back in the Glade. His body was trembling, he suddenly noticed with a confused frown.

And without much of a warning, his mind went blank and images of pieces of his past started rolling before his eyes. He saw himself, sitting at a white table and answering questions he didn't quite comprehend. A man stood in his sight, wicked smirk on place as he led the boy towards a room full of boys around his age.

He remembered their curious stares upon his arrival, remembered paying them no mind and avoiding eye-contact with them. He sat down next to a girl with long, red hair and dull, green eyes. Much to his surprise, she didn't even acknowledge him and kept staring off into space.

He swore he would never get into another fight with her after receiving a black eye for sticking his nose into her affairs.

Then, he saw the girl being called by the same ugly man who had taken him to that damned place. And again. Every day, she would leave the room and come back paler than usual –he was curious, of course. But he was reminded of his mistake when another boy pressed her for information and she punched him in the face.

His suspicious started to appear some days later. He remembered basing them on his absurd jealousy towards the intriguing girl. What was so special about her, anyway?

 _She works for them_ , he had concluded after too much thinking.

The way she seemed to despise everyone but that blond friend of hers irked him to no end; she acted like she was so above them. Like she was _special_.

 _She definitely works for them_.

...

His fingers closed around her throat, and he gritted his teeth as he strangled her. Saliva fell from his parted lips, growls emerged from his chest; he was like a wild animal. Voices shouted at him to let her go, and suddenly, strong arms wrapped around his torso and tried to get him off of the choking girl.

Riley gasped loudly as Minho finally managed to separate the mad boy from her, and she coughed afterwards. Wincing painfully, she reached up to touch her throat but was stopped by Newt, who crouched down before her with worried eyes.

"Are you alright?"

She opened her mouth, attempted to reply but couldn't. Her throat burned, as if a million needles were piercing the sensitive skin. Noticing her discomfort, Newt quickly stood up and rushed to the small sink that stood opposite to the door. While she snapped out of her stupor, she caught sight of Minho struggling to make Gally stop trashing around.

"Something's wrong with her!" the builder kept yelling.

"Here." Newt was back with a glass with cold water, which she accepted and grimaced as she took it in one draught.

"Thank you," she whispered after some seconds; her voice was hoarse, and it still hurt her to speak aloud.

With a sigh, she stood up from the floor and approached Gally.

"Wait, Riley–"

"It's fine, Minho," she assured as she walked past them, pulled out a syringe with some green liquid and swiftly stabbed the injured boy on the neck. He dropped unconscious almost instantly, causing the runner to wince in pain as his foot collided with his shin. After placing him back on the bed, the two Gladers turned towards her with confused looks. "We call them Grievers," she told Newt, then looked at Minho's widened eyes. "Yeah, I believe one of them caused that. Lift his shirt." He did as told, and sure enough, his stomach was purple and the mark of a huge needle shone in the middle of the wound. "There's no way he's done that to himself."

"But, how is it possible?" Minho shook his head, unable to comprehend the facts.

Newt was quiet, as though deep in thought.

"He must have run inside when no one was watching, the slinthead," she ventured to affirm. "He's bloody jacked to do something like that."

"So, these Grievers–they live in the Maze?" Newt dared to ask.

"I don't think "live" is something you can relate them to, honestly. But yeah, the shucking things _stay_ there," the runner replied after a pause.

Riley was shocked.

"You didn't tell him?"

"Why would I?" Minho bit back, then shrugged casually. "He's got good memory and runs like a shucking… runner–hence, he should be a runner. I didn't think I should've scared him for no reason."

"No reason?" the boy repeated, dumbfounded. "Shank, _this_ is a bloody good reason to scare me."

Sighing, the girl stopped them from starting an argument and crossed her arms over her chest.

"It doesn't matter anymore. You already know, so it's up to you whether you become a runner or not."

"But if you don't, you'll join the Sloppers," chirped Minho with a sadistic grin, causing her to roll her eyes.

Newt frowned.

"What are those?"

"Good for nothing–Ow! Damn you woman, and your shucking punches!"

After silencing him with a glare, Riley turned to the newbie.

"They basically do the dirty tasks no one wants to do," she informed.

Newt ran a hand through his messy hair and mulled his options over, while the other two bickered non-stop. His eyes fell upon Gally's body again, and he grimaced –he really did not want to end up like him.

"What happened to him?" _What happens when a Griever attacks you?_

They stopped fighting, glared at one another and walked to opposite sides of the room.

"Grievers sting –that's how they attack– and leave you in extreme pain for days, weeks even. Fortunately," –she pulled out a strange tube from her pocket– "we have this."

"It's a serum–Grief Serum, as we call it," Minho continued. "Want to know why?"

"It causes some of your memories to come back; but–"

"The Changing, this process, is shucking painful." Riley glared at him for interrupting her, but didn't comment on it. "You can see for yourself just how jacked he is after taking it."

"But he'd be dead otherwise," she outsmarted him.

As Minho flicked him off and the girl stuck her tongue out at him, Newt was immersed in a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions. Finally, he let out a heavy sigh –he was certain he would regret his decision.

"When are we leaving?"

Minho grinned.

"Right now."

As the two boys left the infirmary, not without bidding their goodbyes, Riley pursed her lips in thought and glanced at Gally's unconscious form. For some unknown reason, his words wouldn't leave her mind.

 _Something is wrong with her._


End file.
